All Locked Up
by TheLocket
Summary: It began with a slice of Chocolate Cake. After a Delicate Situation and a Closet Affair, Hermione realizes that her secret must be kept All Locked Up. But Draco Malfoy isn't exactly easy to forget.


I kissed Draco Malfoy.

Four little words, when weighed against the thousands I had said to my two best friends, should be insignificant. But they weren't. For an entire morning I tortured myself with the possibilities: A) I don't tell Harry and Ron about my tryst with Draco, or B) I refuse to keep secrets and treat this all as some sort of joke. While option A was preferable in many ways (it excused me from the unpleasant task of explaining to my two male best friends why I was uncannily attracted to a guy who, on multiple occasions, had rather vocally assured the entire school population of just how willing he was to see me die a painful death) there was something fundamentally wrong about not telling them. And wouldn't they wonder why Draco suddenly watched me not like some Mudblood scum, but with blatant interest? Would they be curious if I suddenly disappeared during my free time and refused to mention where I had gone and whom I had been with? There was one obvious solution – never see Draco Malfoy again. Go back to thinking about him as a jackass who happened to live on planet earth, and who occasionally occupied the same classroom as me. But, rational as that solution seemed, something in me refused to acknowledge it as practical or possible.

So I therefore eliminated option A, leaving myself the unappetizing, if more morally-correct decision to be truthful with the only true friends I had.

I made it through breakfast without speaking a single word. Harry was wrapped up in his own silence (something to do with Voldemort trying to kill him) and Ron was stuffing his face while frantically trying to finish a Potions essay he had, as always, left until the last minute. They didn't notice that I hadn't spoken until breakfast ended.

"Uhm, hey," I began hestitantly, "I was just wondering..."

Both of them looked up – Ron's blue eyes were appraising, and Harry's green looked worried. I panicked and blurted out, "What are you guys doing after classes today?"

While ashamed of my cowardice, I allowed myself the procrastination of a few hours.

"We were thinking of practicing Quiddich," Harry replied after a moment of staring at me, probably trying to dissect my flustered state and nervously tapping fingers.

"Harry was gonna show me a few new moves," Ron continued, visibly brightening at what he mistook for my sudden interest in Quiddich. I made an uninterested sound in my throat and return my glance to my wildly twitching pointer finger that was beating out a steady rhythm on the wooden table.

"Why?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh, nothing..." I replied, forcing a false brightness into my voice. "Just wondering... See you guys later!" I quickly fled the scene, contemplating hitting my head against the stone walls in self-directed anger.

"What's up, Hermione?" came Ginny's politely interested voice from a little ways down the hall.

"Boys are so stupid," I groaned, leaning against the wall. Ginny laughed.

"They usually are," she replied. "Anyone in particular, this time?" After a pause, she asked, "Not my brother, right?"

"Ron?" I was shocked, and then chagrined that I _was_ shocked. I could think of no one more unlike Draco. "No, not Ron."

"Well," Ginny continued sensibly, "as long as it's not my good-for-nothing, immature brother, then I don't see a problem."

"You don't?" I asked.

"Just tell him that you like him. Boys are too stupid to actually realize that girls are into them."

"Oh, he knows."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at my weary tone.

"Are you sure?" she probed. After a moment's silence, she added, "Just tell him."

And with that she smiled and continued down the hallway to her first class.

After I completed my final class, I paced in the hallways for a good half-hour, trying to psych myself out, trying to convince myself that Ron and Harry would understand, or at least still speak to me... occasionally... every month... or year...

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. I marched to the Quiddich Pitch and without hesitation threw open the door to the Boys' Locker Room. Since there were no practices going, I knew that the figure I could see after wandering a while had to be one of the boys. And since they were never far apart I stopped a few feet away and blurted out: "Harry, Ron, you guys, I need to talk to you."

Through the steamy air I could see the figure, that had been seated on the bench, stand up slowly. I took a tentative step forward.

"Wow, Granger," came Draco's voice. His face looked shocked, and, to my surprise, angry. "_That _was quick."

"That – what?" I asked, staring at him in surprise.

"I always figured you and the Weasel," he began, sneering as he said the epithet, "but both boys? That's just... wrong."

I was staring at him in utter outrage when I realized that he was only wearing a towel wrapped loosely around his hips.

"What?" he demanded, and I snapped my eyes back to his face.

"I-I'm not... y'know, I never..." I tried to say, flustered to a point of complete lack of coherence. He realized that, once again, I was staring at his perfect, muscular body, and at my completely lucid remark he smirked in amusement, his anger gone.

"You know, Granger, you had me really jealous there, for a moment," he sighed, as though guilty of some horrible offense.

"Uh-hu," I replied, blinking dazedly. He chuckled.

"Are you looking for those two idiots?" he asked, smiling politely, completely unperturbed by his own lack of clothing.

"Uh, yeah," I replied unconvincingly.

"So you didn't come in here just to see me naked."

"Yes." I replied to quickly.

"'Yes'?" he repeated.

"Yes I didn't come here to see you naked, Draco Malfoy," I elaborated, scowling ostensibly at his impertinence, but really to disguise the thrill I felt at the suggestion. He smirked again.

"Alright then," he replied. "Turn around."

"Huh?" My responses seemed to be getting wittier by the moment.

"Turn around," he repeated, a wicked twinkle in his eyes. He gestured towards a pile of clean clothing.

"Oh, right," I muttered, flushing bright red, but able to do as he requested. After a few tantalizing moments, and the sounds of fabric shifting, he called, "Okay, you can turn around."

I turned to face him as he stood, latching his belt. As I watched he pulled a white sleeveless undershirt on, which helped my thought process significantly.

"So," he began, business-like, as he grabbed his sweaty Quiddich gear and skillfully lobbed it into a dirty-laundry hamper on the corner of the lockers. "I think we need to discuss this further."

"Discuss what?" I asked, aware that I was suddenly nervous, aware of the rapid acceleration of my heartbeat.

"Well, Miss Granger," he replied smoothly, smiling mischievously, "we seem to keep bumping into each other quite frequently."

"Yes, I suppose so," I allowed, resisting the urge to add that I wasn't upset that we seemed to find each other.

"Don't you think we should do something about that?" he pressed.

"Like what?" I asked cautiously.

"Hmm, I don't know," he murmured, his velvety voice more attractive than should be legally allowed. "Perhaps we should bump into each other... on purpose?"

I was staring at him, my mouth open like a stupid cow, when there was a loud banging noise of the locker room door being throw open. I froze as I heard footsteps near, and then was shocked and Draco wrapped his strong hands around my waist and lifted me, shoving me into an open locker. He quickly shut the door, and although I resisted, pushing against the closed door with all my strength, I felt him lean, nonchalantly, against the metal door, trapping me effortlessly.

"Behave," he whispered between the hinges. When I hissed at him in anger, he shushed me, and I swear I could hear the smirk in his tone.

"Malfoy?" I heard through the door. There was no mistaking Ron's voice.

"What, Weasel?" returned Draco, his voice surprising vicious. I realized I had grown accustomed to his teasing, gentle tone and forgotten how cruel he could sound.

"C'mon," came Harry's weary voice through the door, as though restraining an angry Ron. "Let's just keep practicing." Draco snorted.

"Good luck with that," he called sarcastically. I could hear the footfalls recede, and, finally, the closing of the locker room door.

Draco made no move to free me from the locker-prison. After a moment of waiting, I began to hammer on the closed locker door.

"Draco, you ass, let me out of here!" I complained. Suddenly the door wretched open and I toppled, yet again, into his outstretched hands. He grinned at me, made sure I could stand, and began to button the clean white shirt he had donned.

"That was fun," he said jovially, his gray eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Yeah, I'm sure it was," I growled sarcastically, glaring at him.

"Hermione," he laughed. "Be nice." I scowled again, trying to ignore the fact that he had, for once, called me by my first name. There was silence for a moment as he tied the laces on his black shoes. Then I realized he was completely dressed.

"Draco," I began nervously, distracted by the way his silvery eyes locked on mine. "I like you," I finally blurted out.

He grinned.

"I know."

"And...?" I asked. In three quick, long strides he was standing right in front of me, and bent to kiss me, quickly but sweetly, on the lips.

"Why don't you bump into me this Friday?" he suggested, absent-mindedly brushing a curl behind my ear. I nodded mutely.

"Excellent," he murmured, and after a moment of staring intently at me, he turned and swept from the room, leaving me standing alone in the Boys' Locker Room with yet another secret and a grin that I couldn't prevent.


End file.
